


The Price of Spilling Blood

by Memento_Scribet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Gen, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Mentions of warfare, alludes to vampirism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memento_Scribet/pseuds/Memento_Scribet
Summary: This story was based on a rumor I heard that Judas Iscariot is considered the very first vampire in some old Christian myths. Now, I have not been able to find any solid source on this, but I loved the idea so much I wrote a little scene where Judas meets with another historic vampire.My original intention was to add onto this if it got enough interest, but given that I cannot even source the "Judas is a vampire" thing, I'll probably just leave this as is.





	The Price of Spilling Blood

Vlad sunk into his chair. It had been a long and harrowing day of battle. He would have closed his eyes and dozed off, but all he could see when his eyes shut was the soldiers, on both sides, who had died that day. He saw the looks of shock, the grimaces of agony, the bursts of blood as they were stabbed, sliced, and crushed. He heard their cries on the wind, screaming in agony. In his own breath, he heard their gasps as they breathed their last. Despite the glass of wine he was nursing, he could feel the grit of dirt in his teeth and taste metal. 

War was truly hell, especially this brutal war against the Turks. Fear that they would erase Wallachia’s traditions with their foreign practices and religion fueled the fight to usurp their rule. Vlad’s father, Vlad II, had fought them first, earning a spot in the Order of the Dragon, earning himself, and later his son, the name Dracul. He did not take this name, or the duty it represented, lightly. If the blood he shed damned his soul, all be the better for the sovereignty of Wallachia.

He took a sip of wine, glimpsing his reflection as he did so. Deep brass metal reflected a warped version of himself, fitting the way he felt. He swirled the wine around in the cup, trying not to think about how similar the red liquid looked to the blood he and his men had spilled earlier that day.

He heard a familiar set of footsteps enter the room and he sighed. “What is it you want?” He said before taking a sip of his wine. 

“You made quite the statement this day.” The visitor said, his hair and hood partially obscuring his face. 

“This is war, my dear friend. A man must make bold decisions in order to build a reputation and keep his people safe.” Vlad said, though he felt a sting of guilt in his gut.

The man smiled. His face was aged, darkened by the sun. He had at one point been heavily bearded, but had taken to trimming it to appear well kept, despite the fact that his clothes were very much worn and outdated. He carried a cane with him, though he didn’t need one to walk with. His hair and clothing had dust on it, revealing that he had recently arrived from his journey, no doubt to come and dispense unsolicited wisdom to Vlad. 

“I once thought that I was making the right choice.” The man said, as he took a seat across from Vlad. “But my lack of faith and misplaced sense of mercy led me astray. Or was it greed? You’ll have to forgive me if I do not quite remember correctly, it did occur fourteen hundred years ago.”

Vlad merely grunted in response, completely unsurprised at the man’s ridiculous claim. He took another sip of his drink as the man continued talking.

“You know… You will go down in infamy for the violent acts you committed today. Just as I have for my mistake all those years ago.” Judas said, his eyes carefully studying Vlad.

“I figured as much.” Vlad said, “but if it keeps my people safe then it will have been worth it. Tell me again, Iscariot, was your mistake worth it?”

It was Judas turned to look into the fire, his eyes filling with an old pain. “No. It was not worth it.” He sighed heavily. “And you’ll have a different opinion of yours in a couple hundred years, Tepes.” He stood, his cloak falling off his head and revealing his dark mass of hair. “Oh, and I am not sure of your decorative choices. Those poor men are already beginning to smell and their bodies will soon rot off the poles you left them to die on.”

Vlad coughed out something that sounded like a laugh. “Hopefully my message gets sent before they make too much of a mess.” Judas shook his head and left. Vlad was fighting a losing battle. He was destined to fight a seemingly endless and pointless war until it cost Vlad his throne and his sons. He would “die” in captivity because of the treachery of family and politics. By then though, Vlad’s fate would be sealed.

Judas would come back in a couple decades when Vlad realized just what his decision had cost him. The moments of blood lust that stole his afterlife and cursed him to walk the Earth until he could die with it. 


End file.
